SharpDressed Man
by voldiesheadgirl
Summary: For 25prompts on InsaneJournal. Voldemort thinks that he needs a new look. Severus gives his opinions. Humor.


Title: Sharp-Dressed Man  
Author: Head Girl  
Rating: T  
Characters: Voldemort, Severus, Lucius, Narcissa  
Prompt: Cross Dressing  
Warnings: Crack fic  
Word Count: 1,493  
Summary: For 25prompts on InsaneJournal. Voldemort thinks that he needs a new look. Severus gives his opinions.  
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I only play with them.

Voldemort stood in front of the mirror in his usual garb, the same type of robe that he wore everyday. He sighed. It was so _boring_. He did still like it in some ways. He loved the way it flowed when he postured dramatically, rippling through the air sinuously as if by magic. His minions were always impressed by this. Even the Potter child had been. Voldemort could practically hear him thinking 'How does he make his robes do that?' when they'd been in that cemetery.

But it was time for a change. A change to something more exciting, something he'd always wanted to try, and would have, had he not been disembodied for all those years. Stripping off the robe and flinging it onto the bed, narrowly missing Nagini as she slithered out of the way, he pointed his wand and transfigured it into several different items.

Walking over, Voldemort picked up the smallest of the lot. Oh yes, black silk. He rubbed it first against his cheek, marveling at how good it felt against his skin, before stepping into them to slide them up his narrow hips. He gazed at himself in the mirror. Yes, perfect. The panties weren't too frilly, just a touch of lace here and there, just as he liked them. 

Next were the stockings. He sat on the bed, drawing the sheer fabric up one leg and then the other, fastening them to the garter belt. He stood, walking back over to the mirror. Oh yes, this outfit was shaping up nicely. The Dark Lord thought himself to look excellent in stockings, with his long legs of lean muscle.

"Legs to die for, to kill for even," Voldemort remarked to no one in particular. Nagini withheld her opinion as she watched him from the dark corner she'd curled up in.

Gathering soft black fabric in his hands, Voldemort raised the black dress he'd transfigured, slipping it over his head to slide it down his body. Nice. A little on the short side, but the cut of the slinky dress formed to his body as he'd wanted it to, clinging in all the right places as Voldemort thought. Next he transfigured a pair of high heels from the footstool in the corner, again displacing Nagini who had been nearby. She slithered under the bed, hoping her master wouldn't take it into his head to transfigure this item as well.

Voldemort wobbled slightly after putting them on. Honestly, women made walking in these things look easy. Bellatrix never seemed to have a problem prancing around in these things at Death Eater meetings. They did look rather stylish with the dress he had on. After a few tries, Voldemort got the knack of walking in them. Shorter strides and an altered cant of the hips worked nicely. Casting an Accio to retrieve an item or two from the nightstand, Voldemort turned to face his reflection once more when the objects slapped into his hand, bidding one of the floating candles in the room to loom closer. He'd watched Bellatrix do this often enough that he though he'd be able to get a reasonable result. As he stroked eye shadow on one lid and then the other, the Dark Lord thought things were working out rather well. It took him a few annoying tries with the lipstick, however. His lips were much thinner than Bellatrix', so he couldn't quite achieve that pouty look that she sported most of the time. Voldemort pulled back to admire the finished result. Not bad. And the lipstick brought out the color of his eyes.

"Smashing," Voldemort remarked, smoothing his hands across the fabric of the little black dress he wore. "I look fabulous."

While the Dark Lord stood pondering the possible merits of donning a wig, and perhaps drawing on the eyebrows that he lacked, his thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Severus Snape made the mistake of pushing open the door before being asked to enter.

"My Lord," Snape said with some urgency, "there is an pressing matter that requires…" he paused as he took in the appearance of the dark wizard, "…your attention," he finished slowly.

Voldemort glared at the shocked wizard, placing his hands on his hips and raising his chin, daring the man to say something negative.

"A new look, My Lord?" Snape asked, though the answer was fairly obvious. He let his initial look of surprise slip from his face to be replaced by one of interest. "You look… fetching."

Voldemort relaxed slightly. "You think so?" He was glad that he wouldn't have to use a Killing Curse on the man for insulting him. It wouldn't do to lose the best potions master in Wizarding Britain.

"Oh yes," Snape lied. "Simply ravishing."

Voldemort looked back at the mirror turning this way and that for a better view. "You don't think the dress is too short, do you? I don't want to go out looking like a trollop."

The Dark Lord actually intended to go beyond this room wearing _that_? "Not at all. You look sensual without the aura of appearing too easy." Severus paused, adding, "And the lipstick brings out the color of your eyes."

That's exactly what Voldemort thought! Snape had excellent taste. He knew that there was a reason that he liked Severus, other than his ability to brew fast-acting poisons. He cocked his head to one side, eying the other wizard for a moment before stalking toward him.

"Do I look shaggable?" Voldemort purred.

"Quite," Snape answered as evenly as he could, unnerved by the look in Voldemort's eyes.

Voldemort now stood in front of the potions master, raising arms to drape over Severus' shoulders as he leaned close. "Would _you_ shag me?"

Snape hid his shiver of distaste, instead saying, "In a heartbeat, My Lord." When Voldemort loomed closer as if for a kiss, Snape turned away before their lips could connect, uttering, "But I am unworthy of such attention from you, My Lord," In a voice that seemingly held choked emotion.

"Unworthy?" 

"Yes," Snape said, turning slightly to look at the man from under heavy lashes. " I was never a handsome boy, and am even less handsome now. As the greatest wizard of our age, surely you are deserving of the best of all things. Of someone with as much beauty and grace as yourself." Severus turned to him fully, his face still a mask of humble servitude. "Someone like Malfoy."

"Malfoy?" Voldemort asked, mulling it over. Malfoy was a very handsome man. Arrogant and preening, yes, but quite handsome except… "But he's a blonde." To Snape's quizzical look, the Dark Lord answered. "I prefer brunettes." He raised a hand to card through Severus' hair. "Especially when they have pale skin. A lovely contrast, don't you think?"

Snape tried not to panic as Voldemort looked as though he would attempt to kiss him again. "You could always spell his hair black, My Lord." Snape offered helpfully. "And he is rather fair-skinned since he is a natural blonde." 

Voldemort pulled back. "I hadn't thought of that. An excellent suggestion, Severus." He stepped away to stand in front of the mirror again, smoothing out the dress under his hands. "Send Lucius in, if you please."

"Of course, My Lord," Severus answered as he bowed and backed away toward the door and thankfully, to freedom.

Some time later, a dazed-looking Lucius staggered back into the living room of the mansion that had become Death Eater headquarters, his now black hair disheveled and his clothes in disarray. He walked stiffly toward the sofa, sitting down onto it as gingerly as possible.

Narcissa frowned. "What happened to you?" she asked her husband, looking at him with distaste. "You look like you've undergone enough Cruciatus to win a bed next to the Longbottoms. And what did you do to your hair?"

"The Dark Lord prefers brunettes," Lucius said in an odd voice, not looking at her and instead staring blankly across the room.

Examining her husband further, Narcissa remarked with great annoyance, "There's lipstick on your collar!" Honestly, what happened to the man's usual discretion? And what woman had he found to dally with when he was supposed to be meeting with the Dark Lord? Surely not Bellatrix?

"It matches his eyes," Lucius said in that same dazed voice.

As Narcissa tried to ply more meaningful responses out of her husband than he was offering, Snape shook his head, hiding a smirk behind his teacup. While he did like Lucius after a fashion, it wasn't enough to overrule his sense of self-preservation. It's not as though Lucius wouldn't recover, Snape thought. Malfoys were a rather resilient sort. But upon watching the scene of Narcissa shaking the former blonde who continued to gaze vacantly across the room, he realized it would probably take quite some time.

End


End file.
